


The Stripper

by RavenHawk (Janey253)



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Birthday Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Fighting Kink, King Usopp, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 05:28:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30016836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janey253/pseuds/RavenHawk
Summary: Usopp is the King of Gifts. The issue was that Zoro wasn't particularly difficult to get gifts for, he was happy with just about anything, if you remembered his birthday.But Usopp is the King of Gifts.So, instead he aims to get Zoro something he could definitely - probably - use, and ends up getting him something he definitely - possibly - needs.
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 14
Kudos: 169





	The Stripper

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea back in November, when it was actually Zoro's birthday, but was no where near equipped to write it at the time. I have been practicing getting back into writing through my other multi-chapter fic, Lover, so I was confident enough to give this a shot.
> 
> I surprised myself with how well (I think) I did with the smut. So, you know, enjoy. There's almost four thousand words of it.
> 
> Obviously, neither the characters or One Piece belong to me.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the fic!

The thing about Zoro was that he wasn’t a complicated person to buy presents for. Alcohol was a sure thing, every year, and if you didn’t want to give him alcohol (why not?), then he would always smile softly and thank you for any tools to help maintain his katana or kendo equipment. It was simple, he was just grateful that someone had remembered his birthday.

The difficulty was Usopp.

He liked being the King of Gifts. You see, telling fabulous stories (not lies) to captivated audiences was impossible if you weren’t paying attention to them. So Usopp was always watching his friends, taking note of their moods, so that he could tell the best stories. It was an art.

An art that was best expressed at birthdays and Christmas (Chopper _always_ got two presents, a birthday present and a Christmas present, even when they had to open Christmas presents early).

It was an art that he had worked tirelessly at perfecting. So that Robin’s face had lit up excitedly when she had unwrapped the first edition copy of an anthropological study of Mayan culture that she had been absently looking for since her first year at university in February. In March, Usopp had gifted Franky a commercial pool inflatable that stretched the length of the twenty-five-metre lap pool he had installed in the back of his house last year, and the man had taken child-like glee from shoving Luffy off the top of the climbing wall multiple times.

Brook’s birthday was two days after his own, in April, and he had given him a five-year subscription that delivered a mystery selection of loose-leaf tea from around the world every month. In May, Usopp had given Luffy a pirate-themed murder mystery weekend at a creepy mansion in the mountains. He had convinced Shanks to play the murdered pirate _Red-Haired Shanks_ , and Luffy had been outraged when he finally discovered that Ace, on behalf of his pirate captain - the infamous _Whitebeard_ ; had been responsible.

In July, Usopp had spent weeks painstakingly restoring and finishing a painting that Nami’s adoptive mother, Bell-mère, had been working on in the weeks before she had been killed in a robbery when Nami was fifteen. Nami had cried, which hadn’t really been the aim, but he knew that she had appreciated it.

So, when November arrived and Usopp only had less than eleven days left before Zoro’s birthday, his reputation was at serious risk. He knew he could get him a bottle of sake and call it a day. He knew that.

But, he also knew that Nami, Chopper, Franky and Brook were likely to do the same. Luffy always got him a random trinket that was unusually insightful but not always helpful, and Robin had cornered the market on the annual katana maintenance kit.

He didn’t even really remember what he had searched to get to the ad he found, he had just been typing in random nonsense into Google to get ideas, but … it might work.

It would either be amazing, or Zoro would beat him to a bloody pulp and never talk to him again. He hoped it wasn’t the latter, he wasn’t totally convinced that he was fast enough to out-run the swordsman.

Then it was just a matter of convincing Nami that they should host the birthday party at Franky’s house (he had the largest backyard by far), and Franky that they would do less damage to his house than occurred at his own birthday party, and the Christmas party before that. He hoped that it wasn’t a lie.

Franky would forgive him though if it was, a few weekends of free labour to repair whatever damage occurred always smoothed over their relationship, and Franky knew the risks of parties with Luffy. Even if he protested.

He really hoped Zoro liked the present though, otherwise it would be a disaster.

* * *

A week later, on Saturday night, Usopp was waiting out the front of Franky’s house anxiously. There was music playing from inside the house and Nami and Robin had finished setting out the party platters when he had left, so the group would be distracted for twenty minutes or so while they ate. It was almost nine in the evening, and they had already done a quick giving of presents.

As Usopp had predicted, Zoro had received four bottles of mid-range sake, an expensive katana maintenance kit, and a phone charm of a samurai lucky cat from Luffy. Zoro had been happy, simple gratitude from years of neglected or missed birthdays. Not that there was anything wrong with Zoro being happy. He just wanted to give Zoro something memorable, something that demonstrated how irreplaceable his friendship was to Usopp.

He still wasn’t convinced that this was the right present, even as a blue Type R Honda Civic purred to a stop in front of him. It was too late to change his mind though, he didn’t have a back-up plan and this hadn’t been cheap.

The man who stepped out of the car wasn’t what Usopp had been expecting. He was tall but lithe, where Usopp had really been expecting muscular. He didn’t get the chance to question it though.

“Usopp?” The man asked, his voice smooth but slightly smoky.

“Y-yeah, hi, how are you?” He replied, stuttering nervously.

“Fine,” the man replied politely, “I’m Sanji, do you have the cash?”

His tone was blunt, and his posture was mildly threatening, and Usopp wondered how many people had been stupid enough to try to get away without paying. Usopp wasn’t that stupid.

He pulled out an envelope of cash and handed it to Sanji without complaint.

“It’s in there, but I’m still covered by the guarantee, right?” He asked nervously, a little worried that the other man might just leave now that he was paid.

Sanji chuckled, opening the envelope to quickly count the bills, “of course, partial refund if the show lasts less than ten minutes.”

Usopp nodded, tucking his hands into the pockets of the oversized jeans he was wearing.

“And tools are definitely okay?” He questioned, despite knowing what the ad had said from memory by now.

Sanji tucked the envelope of cash into an inside pocket of his suit jacket.

“Yes, anything your imagination can come up with, I can take,” he replied with a cocky smirk, “do you have somewhere I can get changed?”

Usopp nodded, skittering to turn and lead the other man up the path to the side entrance to the back yard of the house. Sanji followed behind him more sedately, admiring the façade of the large home. He had the same balanced stride as Zoro, one that spoke to the man’s power and confidence, even with his hands in the pockets of his slacks and a duffle bag slung between his shoulder blades.

Usopp showed him to the pool house. It was clean and contained, with one set of doors leading onto the pool tiles, and the other out on to the wooden patio that led up to the house.

“You can get changed in here,” he offered, turning on the lights, “how long do you need to warm up?”

“Give me fifteen minutes and then bring out the birthday boy,” Sanji winked, pulling off the duffle bag to drop it on one of the couches.

Usopp laughed, slightly hysterically, as he left Sanji to change and made his way back up to the house.

God, he hoped this wasn’t a mistake.

Maybe he should have written his will, just in case?

* * *

Zoro was slouched comfortably in one of Franky’s oversized armchairs, he was half-way through one of the bottles of sake he had been gifted, which he was alternating with shots of whatever Luffy pushed into his hands. The last one had been a disgusting mix of something liquorice and possibly something with hazelnuts, but it also tasted strongly of alcohol so he didn’t care too much once he had washed it down with two large mouthfuls of sake.

He wasn’t quite in the mood for a party, but he was trying to enjoy the company all the same.

It was between kendo competitions, and he would normally have balanced this by increasing the training he scheduled at the dojo and the occasional ill-advised no-weapons-barred street fight. Except, when he had approached Jonny and Yosaku to ask when the next fights were going to be held, Yosaku had grimaced and Johnny had shrugged.

_“Unless you take a dive, they’re not gunna pair you with anyone,” Yosaku revealed, “sorry man.”_

And that had been that.

What was the point of throwing a fight? He wanted to get stronger, and he wasn’t going to get stronger by letting weaker opponents best him.

He hadn’t faced an opponent in months, maybe close to a year, that had actually beaten him, aside from Mihawk. Even his fights against Mihawk were getting better, he had won two matches out of seven when he had last seen him.

But Mihawk was the best swordsman in the world, despite being traditionally trained in fencing rather than kendo.

He was desperate for a good fight, a fight that actually got his adrenaline pumping, the type of fight where he didn’t know what the outcome would be. A fight with someone who was close enough to his level that he could go all out without worrying about defeating his opponent by a landslide, but also where he didn’t need to be constantly aware that any mistake would mean an immediate loss.

Alternatively, he needed to get laid.

Neither of those things were going to happen at his birthday party though. Luffy would never fight him seriously, despite being more than capable of handling himself in a fist fight, and he was the only person in the group that Zoro felt could stand up against him. He also wasn’t stupid enough to sleep with anyone in his little group of friends, sex had destroyed more friendships of his in high school than he’d had.

And most of the time it hadn’t even been Zoro getting laid.

So, he was focusing on the alcohol instead, and trying to not get irritated by the volume of the music and the dancing, or the way that Nami was flouncing around like he had to be constantly grateful for her presence.

He loved them, he did.

They were family.

But he really would have preferred to drink his way into the early hours of the morning and then picked up a partner in a seedy bar that he could bend over the back of his ratty couch and fuck until the sun came up.

So, he loved his friends, even Nami, but their timing was horrible.

And now Usopp had returned from wherever he had disappeared to and was scuttling around the living room like a dog with its tail between its legs. Which wasn’t irritating. He loved Usopp.

Or at least that was what he was trying to remind himself, before he snapped at the younger man to settle down and stop spreading his nervous energy around the party.

Maybe he could leave early.

Luffy would complain, Nami would call him an anti-social asshole, Chopper would be disappointed, and Brook would probably cry big crocodile tears, but then he could work his angry energy off without actually hurting anyone’s feelings.

He took another large mouthful of the bottle in his hand, savouring the bitterness of the alcohol as Usopp approached Chopper and Luffy and started muttering. Zoro frowned at them. The three younger men plotting was almost as dangerous as the girls giggling together.

He didn’t have to wait long before he found out what the fuss was though, as Luffy bounded over to the huge entertainment system and switched on Franky’s Nintendo Wii.

“We’re gunna play Just Dance!” He yelled excitedly, thrusting a controller into Zoro’s hands.

“Hey, what the fuck Luf’? Watch it.” Zoro sniped, as he flinched back to avoid Luffy knocking over the bottle of sake in his left hand.

“Play with us Zoro!” Luffy begged as Usopp set up a four-player game and handed a remote to Chopper.

“Ask one of the girls, I’m not in the mood,” he huffed, trying to pry the younger man off him.

“But Zoro~! It’s your birthday! You should play first.” Luffy whined, crawling into Zoro’s lap as Zoro placed the bottle of sake carefully on the floor.

“Yeah, it’s my birthday party, come on,” he sighed, “go bug someone else.”

Chopped turned towards him, holding the remote excitedly as his big brown eyes turned velvety soft, “Won’t you play with us Zoro? Please? Just one game?”

Zoro swore mentally and stood, sending Luffy tumbling to the ground with a joyful laugh. He would usually cave to Luffy, the idiotic man was his best friend after all (god help him), but he was literally powerless against Chopper. The young man’s doe eyes could fell anyone in their group of friends, though he mostly saved his enormous powers of persuasion for when someone needed to go to the hospital.

Which for a group of, mostly, well-educated mid to late twenty-year-olds was probably too often. Well, and Brook and Franky, who were in their early thirties.

Zoro grumbled as he took a space in front of the TV, shooing Luffy further away from him so that he didn’t accidentally whack him with his overenthusiastic dance moves. He would give them one half-hearted dance, and then he could go back to drinking in peace.

He ended up being pulled through four dance routines, and Luffy’s constant goading ensured that by the end his heart rate had increased very slightly. It wasn’t his insistence that stopped the game though. Instead, Usopp put down his controller with a nervous grin.

“I think my present for you will probably be ready now,” he explained, looking, if possible, even more skittery than normal.

Zoro frowned at him.

“Ready?” He asked dubiously.

Usopp scratched the end of his long nose anxiously but Luffy beamed happily. Evidently, he had been in on whatever distraction plan required a sudden bout of dancing.

“You’ll love it Zoro!” He grinned.

“Okay…” Zoro replied, still uncertain, “so where is it?”

“In the backyard,” Usopp gestured towards the door that led back out to the garden.

Zoro frowned, slightly worried that Usopp had decided giving him a live animal would encourage some form of responsibility in him. If that was the case, then the thing was going straight back to the shelter, he decided as he stooped to collect his bottle from beside the armchair.

“Uhh…” Usopp made a strange, aborted movement towards the bottle, “maybe leave it here?”

The other man obediently lowered the bottle back to the ground, after taking a mouthful.

“Stop being weird,” Zoro rolled his eyes, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Usopp actually whimpered, but did glance around to make sure everyone was present before leading them through the house to the back garden.

The back veranda was bathed with light from the powerful flood lights that Franky had installed to ensure that midnight swims or basketball games could be conducted safely. The house was positioned far enough away from the neighbours, with tall hedges to ensure privacy, that it had never been an issue. There wasn’t a dog on the concrete slab that served as a basketball court, slash rollerblading rink, slash Luffy’s current athletic craze that needed a flat surface, though.

Instead, there was a young man, his age or maybe slightly older, with the scruff of a goatee on his face and a spiral eyebrow over his left eye, his right eye was hidden behind a thick fringe of golden blond hair. He was dressed in a pair of loose-ish black tracksuits pants that clung almost indecently to the man’s pert ass, and a salmon pink tank top that stretched over the man’s defined pectorals.

Zoro paused to slowly evaluate the man.

He was good-looking certainly, and his muscles shifted in a way that was very appealing visually. He probably wouldn’t be as strong as he liked, his face was too pretty and his eyes too blue, but it didn’t stop him wondering whether Usopp had just paid for the full nine yards or if he’d need to work on the other man a little to get him to spread his legs for free.

He smirked at Usopp.

“You got me a stripper for my birthday?” He teased, “You’re meant to save them for the bachelor parties.”

Except Usopp didn’t laugh, instead he looked slightly horrified as his gaze slid over Zoro’s shoulder to the blond.

“What did you call me?”

The blond sounded insulted, and Zoro turned back to look at him again. He didn’t really see how he could have taken it badly, he was gorgeous, obviously a very well-paid stripper. Usopp had chosen well. The man seemed to read some of his thoughts on his face though, because his glare narrowed before he turned to look at Usopp.

“I was under the impression that you were going to tell him, I made it very clear in my contract that this doesn’t happen if he isn’t adequately warmed up. I’m not responsible for any injuries sustained by failure to follow recommended pre-workout warmups and stretches,” the blond growled and Usopp quaked.

“He is. W-warmed up I mean. Or mostly. A little.” Usopp stammered, shrinking back to half hide behind Franky, who Zoro suddenly noticed was holding his katana case.

“What’s going on?” Zoro asked, a little disappointed that it was seeming less likely by the second that the handsome blond stranger was a stripper.

He was the present though, right? Or was he the foster carer for the dog Usopp had decided he needed, and he had just messed up any chance of having sex with him?

The blond huffed in irritation and stalked over to Franky, taking the katana case, and thrusting it into Zoro’s chest.

“I’m a paid ass-kicking service. Go stretch and warm up, _properly_ , you giant mutant plant,” he growled, stalking over to the duffle bag at the edge of the concrete and pulling on thick black fingerless gloves.

Zoro took the instructions, still confused, but did start to stretch and warm up. Usopp wasn’t wrong, he was warm enough that he probably wouldn’t pull anything, but the blond was stretching again and it was a little hypnotic to watch him move from one deep stretch to the next. His ass was delectable. And apparently free.

So Zoro just needed to work him past the whole _I thought you were a stripper_ thing.

Unfortunately, Zoro’s estimation of his fighting skills was that he would fall pathetically short of a challenge, but it was nice that Usopp had thought he needed a mildly violent outlet as a gift. Usopp had relaxed slightly, and he and the rest of his friends had pulled over the couches and outdoor chairs to watch from the safety of the patio.

When the blond straightened again, Zoro opened his weapons case and carefully withdrew Wado.

“Are you sure about weapons?” he asked, looking around for a weapon the blond planned to use.

“Like I told your friend, anything you want to use is fine,” the blond shrugged, adopting a loose stance at the centre of the concrete slab.

Zoro mentally shrugged, if the man was brave (stupid) enough to fight someone armed with a sword with no weapons then Zoro wasn’t going to stop him.

“So how does this work?” he queried, leaving his other two katana in the case by the edge of the concrete.

The blond shrugged, “if you beat me in under ten minutes, then your friend only has to pay me half. Otherwise, I’ll do my best to avoid any injuries that can’t be patched up overnight.”

Zoro snorted but shrugged. It was his money, if he wanted to throw it away on something as stupid as a ten-minute guarantee that was his business. He carefully withdrew Wado from her saya, leaving it with his bag, before approaching the blond on the centre of the concrete.

He bowed respectfully, somewhat surprised when the blond bowed back.

He stepped back into his neutral stance, weight spread evenly between his feet, and waited. The blond stepped back as well, into a ready stance that Zoro supposed could have been used in judo. The pose was off though, his centre of gravity was too high, held in his chest when it should have been in his thighs. It would make him easy to overbalance.

Zoro stepped forward, swinging the back of his katana towards the blond’s chest. Except he wasn’t there anymore. He was faster than he had expected, and had simply skipped back a few paces, wearing a look of smug disappointment.

“You’ll have to wake up earlier than that mosshead,” he goaded.

“What the fuck did you call me, dartboard-brow?” Zoro growled, stepping in again with a faster swing.

The blond was gone again, ducking below the swing and retaliating with a sharp kick at Zoro’s ankles. The hit was stronger and faster than Zoro had been anticipating, and the blond was away again, circling Zoro just out of reach of his sword.

“Your friend said that you preferred using three swords in fights,” the blond noted conversationally, and Zoro let him distract him.

It was his mistake. The blond darted up, appearing weightless as he spun in the air. Zoro barely had time to bring Wado up to block the kick before there was a sharp sound of metal striking metal, and the force of the blow reverberated through Zoro’s arms and shoulders. Then he was gone again, behind him on his feet, light as a cat.

Zoro growled and looked over at Usopp.

“How long do I have?” he called up to the younger man, who paled slightly but glanced at his watch.

“Seven and a half minutes,” Usopp replied.

“Fine,” he snapped, stalking over to his bag to withdraw Kitetsu and Enma from their sayas, “seven and a half minutes is plenty of time to plaster you to the pavement, curly.”

The blond merely smirked, waiting for him.

Zoro attacked with the speed and force that he would use against Mihawk, only to find again that the blond whispered past his blades, dancing away until he had the space to come in with another monstrous attack that rattled his bones when he blocked them, even against all three blades. He was fast. Fast and accurate, with unbelievable power packed into his legs.

In fact, Zoro had yet to see him attack with his arms at all, though there had been at least one opening where a sharp punch would have made contact. His hands were tucked carefully into the pockets of his track suit pants, making his movements look even more effortless.

Zoro attacked again, a quick combination of moves that seemed to line up a strike with Enma, but he switched angle at the last moment, driving in with Kitetsu instead. It was the first time that one of his attacks seemed to catch the blond by surprise or it had simply been too fast to move out of the way of. It was blocked by the other man’s leg, driving the attack down and away from his chest, but Zoro could see that the force had hurt by grimace on the blond’s face.

The blond darted back again, further away this time as he settled into a relaxed neutral stance. Zoro straightened to wait for him to come back into range again as the blond pulled out a gold lighter and a cigarette, placing the cigarette between full lips before lighting it. Zoro would have complained that he didn’t have the time to get stopping for a smoke break, but when the blond’s steel grey-blue eyes snapped up to meet Zoro’s the concentration there sent shivers down his spine. The habit wasn’t to take a break, it was to focus.

It wasn’t a strategy Zoro had anticipated, but the act was kind of hot.

He looked good with something in his mouth.

Moments later he was back, another powerful kick that was quickly deflected. Then he was just a blur of movement, steel toed shoes chiming against blades, the dull side of his blades hitting heavily against either the steel of the blond’s boots or the muscles of his legs, if they made contact at all. It was a stalemate, Zoro’s strikes were stronger when they made contact, as evidenced by the pain that had lanced through the blond’s expression when he had blocked one particular strike with his shin, but the blond was faster.

Of course, a winner would only be determined if Zoro was disarmed, or if Zoro backed the blond into a pin. Zoro was aware that the fight had stretched longer than ten minutes now, but it was worth it. The blond was feisty and fast, but so powerful and enjoyed the violence every bit as much as Zoro did. And, although Zoro had never seen the blond’s fighting style practiced before, it was clear that he had honed his craft as meticulously as Zoro did.

They had both started to breathe heavier, deep breaths taken through open mouths that filled their chests between attacks. The blond’s hair had gone dark at the root, undoubtably from sweat, and Zoro could feel the dampness of his own running down his back. Fast-paced, powerful fights like this weren’t designed to drag on. Seeing the blond fight, he understood a little better why he was confident enough to guarantee his work.

There probably was a short list of people that could defeat him, let alone in ten minutes.

Zoro attacked again, using a series of complicated moves that even Mihawk had struggled to keep up with if he managed to complete them perfectly. His timing was exact, the movements precise, but the blond was gone again, but not above as he had anticipated.

Instead, he was suddenly underneath him, the hands that had been so carefully tucked away all fight now on the concrete as his formidable legs spun out from the other man’s handstand, delivering a powerful kick to Zoro’s chest that sent him flying across the concrete and onto the grass. Wado’s hilt in his mouth had stopped him from doing something stupid like biting his tongue, but his chest ached and all he could do for a few moments was stare at the stary sky.

The blond picked his way across the concrete slowly, a slight limp in his step now that Zoro was listening, and peered down at him.

“Do you yield?” He asked teasingly.

Zoro grunted, taking catalogue of his injuries. His chest ached painfully, and would probably bruise, but his breathing wasn’t impaired, so he hadn’t broken anything. His shoulders and arms were sore from taking the impact of so many of the blond’s ferocious kicks, and his ankle smarted from the first strike the blond had landed – which Zoro realised now had been soft by comparison. He definitely could keep fighting, but he found he didn’t really want to.

The anxious, violent energy from earlier in the evening had fizzled away. Instead, he was pleasantly warm and breathless. He didn’t even mind that much that he had lost, the fight was satisfying, and the blond was skilled enough that he had earnt the win.

This time.

“I yield,” Zoro replied eventually, removed Wado from between his teeth as he sat up slowly.

“Oh, thank fuck,” the blond sighed, flopping back on the grass with a groan.

Zoro grinned as Luffy bounded over, Chopper trotting close behind him with an armful of water bottles, towels and a first aid kit.

“That was _awesome_!” Luffy grinned, “you guys were like _wham_! And _pow_! And _clang_! Usopp even got a video so you can watch it later Zoro!”

Zoro laughed, accepting the water from Chopper, and wrapping a towel around his neck.

“Thanks Luffy, it was a good fight,” he smiled, sculling half a bottle of water and pouring the rest over the top of his head.

The blond whacked him with the corner of his own towel when some of the water splashed over him instead of Zoro. Zoro retaliated by opening a second bottle of water and dumping the entirety of the bottle over the blond’s head and shoulders.

“So, you didn’t hate it?” Usopp asked nervously.

Zoro looked up at him and his smile softened slightly, “nah, thanks Usopp, that was pretty cool of you. I’ve been itching for a good fight.”

“Happy birthday then, dude,” Usopp grinned, “just call me Usopp, King of Gifts.”

Zoro chuckled, leaning back to let Chopper pull off his T-shirt to examine the kick he had taken to his chest. The blond had sat up as well, his hair completely drenched, and Zoro noticed him watching Chopper work. Not uninterested then.

Good.

“I’m Sanji,” the blond introduced, as he rolled up his trouser leg to check his shin.

It had started to bruise already, but the skin hadn’t broken. Chopper would fuss and apply some cream and the bruising would have faded significantly by tomorrow morning.

“Most people introduce themselves before trying to kick someone’s head in,” Nami huffed.

She sounded pissed off, Zoro decided, but it was hard to tell when she was standing so perfectly under the floodlight, her expression almost completely shadowed. Was she annoyed that Usopp hadn’t gotten her a violent friend to play with for her birthday?

It seemed unlikely.

Sanji had looked up at her though, suddenly aware that there were more people present than just Zoro and Chopper, and his face cleared into a bright, almost innocent smile. Zoro didn’t like it. He should be focused on him.

“Sorry my sweet, I apologise for the oversight,” his voice was soft, smooth as silk and full of the spun sugar that Chopper adored at fairs.

Zoro hated it. People who had a demon inside them, clawing violently to get out, shouldn’t sound like that. And Zoro knew that Sanji had a demon. He had seen it in his smirk when his shattering kicks landed against his swords, in his desire to win, had felt its’ satisfaction when Zoro had yielded.

Nami was satisfied though, mostly. She wasn’t glaring at Zoro any more at least. Sanji had stood though, approaching her to introduce himself properly. Apparently, a handshake wasn’t good enough for the girls, Nami got a hand on her waist and a kiss to both cheeks, and when Robin approached curiously, she would have received the same, except she backed away slightly from the second passing kiss.

Robin had never really been a fan of close contact with strangers, though she tolerated cultural greetings as far as was polite. Her greeting apparently signalled to the rest of the group that the blond was now approachable, and they descended with loud questions, compliments and cheering.

Zoro frowned at the group, Sanji was his present and he wasn’t done with him yet. And what was the blond doing being so sociable anyway? He looked down at Chopper instead, who was now checking his shoulders and wrists for sprains.

“How am I looking doc?” He asked softly.

Chopper looked up at him with the same soft doe eyes, worry evident in his expression despite his smile.

“You’ve had worse,” Chopper replied, his eyes flicking automatically to the huge jagged scar that ran from his collarbone to his hip.

He had forgotten about that, again. Was that what Sanji had been looking at when Chopper had taken off his shirt? Was he straight? He was certainly fussing over Nami like he didn’t possess a braincell that wasn’t currently preoccupied by the halter-neck dress that she had chosen for the party.

If he was at least curious, Zoro might be willing to spend the evening breaking him in. If he wasn’t, it would be disappointing but Zoro didn’t have the patience to try to teach someone that sexuality was a spectrum, not binary.

“You should check on the swirly idiot too,” Zoro murmured softly, pulling his shirt back on when Chopper had finished his examination.

“I will, I want to see you tomorrow morning though, the bruise on your chest is going to get a lot worse,” Chopper replied with a concerned huff, “why do you like doing this to yourself? Why can’t you find a hobby that doesn’t need medical attention?”

Zoro laughed, “Sorry Doctor Chopper.”

“Using my full title doesn’t make me happy, asshole,” the younger main complained, despite blushing bright red.

“I really appreciate you looking after me so well,” Zoro teased, only to receive a towel thrown in his face.

“ _Bastard_!”

The yelling caused the larger group to look over curiously, and Zoro could see Sanji watching with an expression of confused concern.

“Oi, Curly, it’s your turn with the doctor,” Zoro called, calling him over with a lazy two fingered gesture.

Sanji glared at him, stalking over to him aggressively.

“Stop calling me stupid fucking nicknames, shitty swordsman,” he growled, looming over him.

Zoro looked up with a smirk, then wrapped an arm around the backs of his knees and brought him tumbling to the grass in surprise.

“No,” he grinned, “now sit still for the good doctor, blondie.”

Sanji glared at him, and Zoro relished the attention.

“That was petty,” Sanji growled, but pulled up his trousers so that Chopper could see his legs.

Chopper fussed, running experienced hands over defined quad, hamstring and calf muscles to assess if there was anything injured deeper than the mottled bruises that had started appearing down both of Sanji’s legs. Sanji watched Chopper work silently, and Zoro watched Sanji. Up close there was another bruise that stretched down Sanji’s shoulder, and a different bruise that peeked between his shirt and his trousers on his hip.

It made Zoro wonder whether Sanji’s ten-minute guarantee sometimes meant that he slowed down enough for his opponent to get a few shots in, so that he didn’t annihilate them in thirty-seconds flat. That didn’t sit well for Zoro. This man shouldn’t be holding back for anyone, especially not any moron stupid enough to pay him for a fight and not be strong enough to take it.

Chopper had noticed though, and asked Sanji softly if he had any other injuries that he should look at. Sanji paused, equally surprised that the little doctor had noticed and that he had offered.

“Don’t be an idiot, just say yes,” Zoro growled at him, pulling himself to his feet, “but say it inside, I’m hungry.”

“I shouldn’t-” Sanji started, like the overly polite moron he clearly was.

“You got another job to go to?” Zoro interrupted.

“Well, no,” Sanji started again, “but-”

“So, come in, have some food and a drink and relax, it’s a party,” Zoro instructed, reaching down to drag the blond to his feet.

“Stop manhandling me,” Sanji sniped, brushing him off once he was on his feet.

“No,” Zoro smirked, turning on his heel to stride back towards the house.

“That wasn’t a question, you overgrown lawn ornament!” The other man yelled after him, following him with elongated strides of those long legs.

Zoro laughed, opening the back sliding doors into Franky’s home, leaving them ajar for the blond but not stopping. He led them through into the kitchen, enjoying that the blond’s attention was so focused that he kept cursing after him, even though he had paused to collect his bag from the side of the court.

Zoro had packed away Wado, Kitetsu and Enma while Chopper had been patching him up, and then had given the case back to Usopp. The other man would find a safe place for the night, and he would take them back to his apartment tomorrow. Though, apparently, his apartment wasn’t as secure as he had previously assumed, if Usopp had managed to sneak them out in the first place.

He’d growl at him about it later, when he was certain that the irritation about the invasion of his privacy wouldn’t be confused with a lack of gratitude for the gift.

Zoro led Sanji into the kitchen, shoving one of the platters of luke-warm sausage rolls, party pies and nibbles towards him as Zoro grabbed two beers from the fridge. It seemed like Nami was going to follow them in, but Luffy grabbed her arm and dragged her into the living room instead, yelling something about Mario Kart.

Zoro liked that kid.

Sanji hopped up onto one of the tall bar stools that sat on one side of the kitchen bench. They had been built for Franky’s height, but were moderately adjustable so that Chopper could clamber onto one when he was talking to someone in the kitchen. He took a sandwich triangle politely, avoiding the oven-baked pastries entirely.

“You’re not hungry?” Zoro asked, sourcing a whole tray of pigs-in-blankets to devour.

“I usually just cook for myself at home. Not that there’s anything wrong with this,” Sanji smiled, taking a proper bite of the sandwich.

Zoro shrugged, placing a beer in front of the blond.

“The food’s crap, you can just say it,” he said nonchalantly as he leaned again the kitchen bench.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Sanji protested, taking a sausage roll as if this would prove his point.

“Not much right with it either though,” Zoro argued, shoving three mini hot dogs in his mouth at once, which made Sanji grimace.

“It’s fine,” Sanji shook his head, taking a sip of his beer, “and stop eating like an animal, no one deserves to have to watch that.”

“Stop eating like such a priss,” Zoro smirked.

“Pig.”

“Princess.”

“Neanderthal.”

“Snob.”

Sanji actually looked slightly insulted at that.

“Lug.”

“You wanna fuck me?”

Sanji choked on his mouthful of beer. Zoro had finished his, so he did the gentlemanly thing and took it away from him.

“What?!” Sanji choked out.

“Well, for the sake of clarity, I’d really rather fuck you, but if it’s a deal breaker then I’m willing to let you top,” Zoro shrugged, taking a mouthful of Sanji’s beer, “just how flexible are you?”

“Very,” Sanji replied without thinking, and then blushed a very attractive rosy colour, “that’s not the point. What?”

“Do. _You_. Want. To. Have. _Sex_. With. _Me_?” Zoro enunciated clearly, smirking.

Sanji laughed, “is this normally how you proposition people?”

“At around ten-thirty at night? Pretty much,” Zoro shrugged.

“Lord help me,” Sanji chuckled, “I guess it is your birthday, it would almost be rude to say no.”

“Especially since you came to my birthday party but didn’t bring a gift,” Zoro agreed, shifting ever so slightly closer.

“I was Usopp’s gift to you,” Sanji laughed.

“No, the fight was Usopp’s gift to me,” Zoro corrected him with a smirk, “But I’ll overlook your poor etiquette on this one occasion.”

“If I have sex with you?”

“Yes,” Zoro nodded.

Sanji sighed deeply but he was smiling, “fine. Is this even your house?”

“Nah, but Franky has a spare room set up for me. It’s my birthday,” Zoro grinned, finishing the last of Sanji’s beer.

Zoro was positive that he had never used his birthday as an excuse to get a thing in his life, but if it helped move Sanji from the kitchen to a bedroom then he would keep using it until the weekend ended. And possibly next week as well.

Sanji leant across the kitchen island to get another bottle of water, and then slid off his bar stool, standing chest to chest with Zoro and smirking slightly.

“Well lead on then, I’d hate to wait until midnight and feel like I failed to give you a timely present,” he instructed.

Zoro grinned, pushing away from the kitchen bench and grabbing Sanji’s bag to lead him out of the kitchen and down the hallway to the staircase that led up to the second and third floor.

“Second floor, third door on the left,” Zoro instructed, waiting shamelessly for Sanji to pass him.

Sanji rolled his eyes as he strode confidently up the stairs.

“You’re a fucking pervert,” the blond chastised, turning to look over his shoulder at Zoro from the top of the stairs.

“Coming from the guy who spent ten minutes looking down Nami’s dress and is now coming up to a stranger’s spare room to get laid?” Zoro pointed out, reaching out to slap Sanji’s ass.

Sanji blushed, the same stunning rosy colour that sat high on his cheekbones and the tips of his ears.

“I- I was not!” He protested, following after him to the spare room.

“Course not, Curly,” Zoro teased, shoving him gently through the doorway to close and lock the door behind them.

Sanji stumbled slightly and glared at him.

“Seriously, stop manhandling me.”

Zoro paused to consider the request, then smirked, “seriously, no.”

Sanji huffed at him and grabbed his bag out of Zoro’s hands.

“You’re way too pretty, I’m sorry, it’s not my fault if I can’t keep my hands off you,” Zoro laughed, crowding Sanji against the wall.

“I’ll kick your ass, pretty or not,” Sanji warned, not even mildly intimidated by the other man’s hulking muscles, “is there a bathroom I can use to clean up?”

Zoro watched him for a moment, noting the scent of smoke in his hair, both cigarette smoke and not, and a slight smudge of grease on his cheeks. He couldn’t tell where he might have worked, but it was clear that he had just finished before he came to Zoro’s party. Zoro leant back to give the blond space to move.

“The ensuite is just through that door, there should be towels in there,” he replied, stepping away a little reluctantly.

“Thanks,” Sanji murmured, stepping back into his personal space to wrap his fingers gently around the back of Zoro’s neck.

Sanji’s lips were soft and full, the scratch from his goatee contrasted with the smoothness of his lips. He was confident, which Zoro loved, but not demanding. The kiss was almost chaste but Zoro found himself chasing the contact when Sanji went to pull back, sinking his teeth into Sanji’s lower lip as he grabbed his waist to pull him flush against his chest.

Sanji made a noise somewhere between a groan and a whimper, his fingers fisted in the short hairs at the back of Zoro’s head as Zoro slipped his tongue into his mouth. He tasted faintly of cigarettes, with a hint of beer, mustard, and mint. Zoro’s hands slid to his ass, grabbing hungry handfuls of taut muscle, simultaneously pulling Sanji’s hips into his own while spreading the perky globes.

Sanji did moan into the kiss this time, gently biting down on Zoro’s tongue and sucking on it for a moment before he pulled back properly. His face was slightly flushed, and his lips shone damply as his tongue peeked out to swipe across his lower lip.

“I’ll be less than ten minutes, and I’ll make it up to you,” Sanji’s voice was deep and slightly rough as he murmured reassuringly, “I just don’t want to smell like a kitchen.”

Zoro grumbled but relinquished his hold on the other man’s ass, reluctantly.

Sanji smirked, reading his hesitance, and gently pushed him back onto the bed, “stay.”

Zoro folded his arms under his head, his biceps bulging attractively, as he smirked and watched Sanji disappear into the ensuite.

* * *

Sanji was half hard already when he closed the ensuite door behind himself. Knowing that he had left Zoro, gorgeous and tanned, reclined on the bed with those arms tucked behind his head wasn’t helping.

Sanji’s issue (this one issue – the others would take too long to explain), was that his sexuality usually ran one of two ways. He loved women, gorgeous, feminine women with beautiful hourglass figures and silky soft hair, who dressed in evening gowns or summer dresses and left their heels on while he spent hours between with his tongue between their thighs. He literally worshipped women.

He also loved men. Well-built men with deep voices and big hands, traditionally masculine men who couldn’t wear skinny jeans because their muscles ruined the lines. Powerful men who could push him around a little, the type of men who could pick him up and throw him around like he was nothing. The type of men who would.

Chris Evans as Captain America had featured in more dreams than Sanji was prepared to openly admit to.

The issue was that women loved him, he was tall and moderately well-built, well dressed, well spoken and unerringly polite. Men, not so much. For men, he was somewhere in a strange limbo between too feminine and too masculine. And when his own personal preferences in men started to come into play, he managed to rule out the vast majority of the men who found him attractive all by himself.

So, while he was bi, his experience with men narrowed down to two occasions in his late teens while he was more flexible about his desires that had ended up being grossly disappointing, and a collection of sex toys and pornography.

But now there was Zoro.

Sanji paused to let the water rinse the conditioner from his hair.

Zoro, who was strong and athletic, with thick muscles developed from honing his fighting skills, rather than hours spent at the gym targeting muscle groups to get a perfect triangle figure. His hips only narrowed slightly from the bulk of his chest and stomach. He was strong, actually strong. Not to mention driven and focused with a lust for violence that made Sanji’s blood simmer in anticipation.

And gorgeous.

His skin was tanned from hours spent in the sun, and possibly his heritage, though Sanji couldn’t exactly place where his family might have come from. He had never seen hair that shade before, not without a bottle of hair dye being involved, but he couldn’t imagine the other man bothering. There was a richness in the green that made Sanji think of the underside of a forest canopy on a sunny day, or the marimo that he had seen sold in small fishbowls at a festival in Hokkaido last October.

Actually, it looked a lot like the marimo.

His hair had been soft as well, just long enough for Sanji to pull on. His gold earrings (which Sanji was looking forward to playing with) matched the man’s golden-brown eyes.

He was gorgeous.

Scarred, pierced, and muscled, and somehow, miraculously, attracted to Sanji.

He had noticed Zoro’s interest as soon as he had seen him, it would be hard to miss when the man had mistaken him for a stripper, but that interest hadn’t dulled when he had been told what he was actually there for. He had been cynical maybe, but he was still attracted to him. And when he had proven that he was an excellent fighter as well, Zoro’s attraction had skyrocketed. He had felt his attention on him, hot and heavy throughout the fight and afterwards, when he had been meeting his friends. Desperate.

The feeling was heady.

He felt attractive, almost invincible. He desperately wanted to not mess it up. Which was why he had taken ten minutes out to wash the smell of the kitchens, and the dried sweat and grass stains, off him.

Standing in front of the mirror, his skin was flushed from the shower, but his facial hair was neat. His chest hair had always been on the lighter side and slightly downy, unlike the dark hairs that grew on his calves. Zoro probably didn’t care, but he did take a small amount of pride in looking neatly tidied, and women certainly seemed to prefer it. He wasn’t perfect, and if he had been given warning from the universe that this was in his cards for his Saturday night, he would have made damn sure he was perfect, but he didn’t look bad.

The bruises were unfortunate blemishes that he didn’t regret. Zoro wouldn’t care about them, he had been responsible for the majority. With any luck he’d be responsible for a few more before the night was over.

Sanji pulled on a clean pair of boxers (the number of times he’d had something spill on him in the kitchen, it just made sense to always have extra), navy blue with cherries printed on them, and ran a comb through his hair to neaten it. He didn’t want to change back into either his dirty suit, or his dirty work out gear, so he left them folded neatly in the duffle bag and opened the door back into the bedroom.

Zoro was exactly where he had left him, down to the disgruntled expression on his handsome face, only missing the black T-shirt that he had been wearing. His gaze swept appreciatively down the expanse of skin now on display though as Sanji leant his hip against the doorframe.

“See something you like?” He teased.

Zoro smirked, unwinding his arms from behind his head to sit up slowly. The corded muscles of his abdomen clenched as he moved, highlighting the definition there, and making Sanji’s mouth water slightly.

He should have been worried about the gnarled scar that ran from Zoro’s shoulder to his hip, but it was old, even if it had cleared not healed well. Everyone had their scars though, even Sanji, and clearly the earlier fight was not Zoro’s first time utilising his deadly sharp katanas. It could be a story for another time, hopefully.

“Get back over here, you were gone too long,” Zoro growled, reaching out to grab the hem of Sanji’s boxers to drag him closer.

Sanji laughed, allowing himself to be pulled closer before swinging one leg over to straddle Zoro’s hips, rolling his hips down onto the firm bulge in Zoro’s jeans that he was pleased hadn’t gone anywhere.

“I promised I’d make it up to you though,” Sanji grinned playfully.

He rolled his hips again, practicing the elegant isolations that made him popular at dance clubs. Zoro’s eyes rolled backwards with a groan, his fingers clenched into the muscles at Sanji’s hips.

“Fine,” he groaned through gritted teeth.

Stubborn.

Sanji chuckled, leaning down to press his lips against Zoro’s again. The kiss was slower this time, languid, and Sanji took his time pressing his tongue against Zoro’s, imitating the rhythm of his hips. He had always enjoyed kissing; it was a vastly underrated form of foreplay and gave a rare insight into a partner’s preferences in bed.

Zoro was good at kissing, he approached it with the same passion as he did his fighting. Analytical but confident and curious. Zoro’s earrings chimed musically as Sanji ran his hands up the sides of his neck to push his fingers into the soft strands of his hair, tilting Zoro’s head slightly so he could keep control of the kiss.

This gentle movement was apparently too much for Zoro though, the progress too slow, or perhaps the friction of Sanji’s movements too much against the rough material of his jeans. He gripped his fingers more firmly into Sanji’s hips, muscles tensing to pick him up again, probably to toss him back on the bed.

Quick reflexes and strong legs had him out of Zoro’s grip and off his lap before he could quite finish the thought.

“I haven’t made it up to you yet,” Sanji protested with a smirk as Zoro glowered at him.

“You can make it up to me here, come back,” he instructed, patience wearing a little.

“You asked how flexible I was, I was going to show you,” Sanji offered, “but if you don’t want to see-?”

Interest flickered in Zoro’s eyes as he fought with himself.

“Fine,” Zoro huffed, decision made, “but get me out of these jeans first.”

Sanji laughed softly, reaching a hand down to gently pull Zoro to his feet. He leant in to kiss him again as his hands dropped to the button of his jeans, flicking it open and then sliding the zipper down tooth by tooth.

Zoro groaned into the kiss, nipping at Sanji’s lips, “you’re killing me, seriously, we could have had sex twice already.”

“That’s not promising,” Sanji taunted, slipping a hand into Zoro’s jeans.

He wasn’t wearing underwear and his erection was hot and hard in Sanji’s hand. It wasn’t a surprise that he had wanted them off then. Sanji wrapped dexterous fingers around Zoro’s girth, stroking slowly as he nibbled at his earlobe, testing the sensation of the earrings on his tongue as he played with them.

“There’s nothing wrong with my stamina,” Zoro growled, scratching blunt nails into Sanji’s hips, “I’ve just seen snails move faster.”

Sanji pulled his hand out of Zoro’s jeans, ignoring the other man’s noise of complaint, and nipped at the junction of Zoro’s throat as he slipped the waist of Zoro’s jeans off his hips and down his thighs. He suspected that Zoro would tell him to back off if he was worried about a mark, but instead the other man groaned quietly as he bit down properly and sucked.

Sanji pulled back with a pleased smirk, dropping fluidly to his knees to pull Zoro’s jeans the rest of the way off before pushing him lightly back onto the bed.

“If you come, you better be able to get it back up again,” he warned lightly, tossing Zoro’s jeans over the chair at the side of the room so they were out of the way.

“Bossy,” Zoro grumbled, shuffling to lean back against the headboard.

All of his beautiful tanned skin was on display, thickly muscled, with his erection pressed proudly against his stomach out of a patch of green curls. Not dyed then. And Zoro wasn’t shy at all, reaching a hand down to wrap around his length when he noticed the direction of Sanji’s gaze.

“I’m just not done with you yet, this is your present for your patience,” Sanji chuckled.

“You’re delaying, you could start and finish with me right now,” Zoro taunted, stroking a hand tauntingly down his length.

Sanji raised an eyebrow and then stepped back, flipping comfortably onto his hands in a perfectly straight handstand. Zoro looked unimpressed. Sanji shifted his hands slightly further apart, to better stabilise himself before lowering his feet towards his neck, his knees falling open as his toes brushed the back of his neck.

Zoro was watching with interest now, though reluctance still lingered in his expression. Sanji straightened his left leg until it was parallel to the ground, his right leg shifting a little wider to keep him balanced. He held the half-split for a moment, making sure he still had Zoro’s attention, before straightening his right leg out to the side as well.

“ _Fuck…_ ” Zoro swore softly, biting his lip, his hand stroking his cock slowly.

Sanji smirked, rotating his hips slowly to bring his right leg over his head, his left stretching behind him into a perfect horizontal split. He looked up at Zoro again.

“What do you think?” He teased.

“How long can you hold that position?” Zoro groaned quietly.

“I don’t know,” Sanji chuckled, straightening his legs back into the vertical handstand, only to drop them suddenly back into the split, his left leg over his head this time, “I don’t think you want me to hold it as long as I can.”

“Probably not,” Zoro agreed, his hand speeding up slightly, “ _fuck,_ your legs…”

“I was really hoping you’d fuck my ass,” Sanji replied, shifting his hips again to lower his legs to the ground, giving Zoro a perfect view of his ass as he straightened.

Zoro made a noise that Sanji could only interpret as a compliment, and he smirked over his shoulder.

“Flexible enough?” He teased.

“Get over here,” Zoro growled, his hand gripped tightly around the base of his erection.

He must have been close then.

Sanji felt himself blush slightly; it was an intoxicating feeling to be _this_ attractive to the other man. Attractive enough that he was staving off an orgasm just from watching spend five minutes on his hands doing something that wasn’t much more than part of his average warmup.

“Do you have condoms?” Sanji asked, crawling up on the end of the bed.

“Bag,” Zoro grunted, gesturing to a ratty backpack that had been tossed beside the bed.

Sanji reached over the side of the bed to grab the backpack, fishing in the front pocket to pull out a few condoms and a half empty bottle of lube.

“Perfect,” Sanji grinned, tossing the lube next to Zoro before taking a condom and opening it to roll it over Zoro’s erection.

Zoro groaned softly, reaching down to clench a hand in Sanji’s hair to drag him up for another kiss. The kiss was messy, and Zoro’s hand was tight in his hair, pulling slightly, and Sanji moaned.

When Sanji pulled back from the kiss, he slid nimbly between Zoro’s legs, his hand replacing the one that Zoro still had clenched around the base of his cock. He was so hard. Sanji could feel the tension of it in his thighs.

He didn’t rush in though. He had always learnt better with his mouth, taste and texture translated to pleasure in cooking, so he had always felt like it followed naturally that it was the same in sex. He hadn’t given head to a man before, but he knew what he liked from women, so there was no harm in starting there.

The taste was nothing remarkable, condoms tasted the same regardless of whether the partner was animate or not, and he ran the flat of his tongue up Zoro’s length curiously. Zoro was watching him with those lust-blown golden-brown eyes, his hand still clenched in his hair, holding on rather than instructing. He made a desperate noise when Sanji wrapped his mouth around the head of his cock and sucked, which Sanji liked.

He had expected the other man to be quieter, but liked the audible feedback when he was doing something right. Like the gasp that Zoro made when Sanji slipped the head of his cock past the close of his throat and swallowed deeply.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Zoro swore, his hips lifting slightly as he groaned, “I can’t- Sanji-”

Sanji hummed around him, his head bobbing in Zoro’s lap as he continued to lap at his cock.

Zoro managed to stave his orgasm for another few strokes, Sanji’s tongue wrapping tightly around the head of his cock as his hand worked the base, before his hand tightened sharply in Sanji’s hair.

“Nrgghhh… Sanji!” He moaned as he came, pulling at the blond strands hard enough that a few snapped around his fingers.

Sanji sat back with a small, pleased smile, stroking him through the last few tremors of his orgasm. When Zoro relaxed into the pillows with a satisfied hum, Sanji slid the condom off, tying it closed before tossing it lightly into the bin next to the bed.

“And you’re definitely not a hooker?” Zoro asked with a laugh as he pulled Sanji down for another kiss.

“First, I’m a stripper, now I’m a hooker?” Sanji asked, biting Zoro’s lip crossly.

“I hope not, I couldn’t afford you,” Zoro teased, taking a firm grip of Sanji’s hips to roll him underneath him.

“I know that,” Sanji smirked.

Zoro glared at him, hooking his fingers into the blue boxers on Sanji’s hips to pull them off and toss them off the bed. Sanji shivered, it had been easier to not focus on how hard he was when he had been concentrating on Zoro’s enjoyment, but now that he was pressed underneath the other man, relinquishing control, he was suddenly aware his erection was almost painful.

Zoro sat back on his heels, his hands holding Sanji’s knees apart as he looked down at him.

“You’re stunning,” he murmured softly.

Sanji blushed, the rosy tint that Zoro had admired earlier spreading down his creamy neck and chest, “Zoro, please…”

“Oh, so now you’re the impatient one?” Zoro asked, stroking large hands down the insides of Sanji’s thighs, “that must suck.”

“I can still kick your ass, I’ll find that extremely satisfying,” Sanji growled.

Zoro slapped the underside of his ass, causing the blond to jump and glare at him. It had only been light, but Sanji’s skin quickly turned that same rosy pink colour.

“Let me worry about your ass,” Zoro smirked, reaching up to grab the bottle of lube that Sanji had tossed near the pillows.

Sanji watched him, his stomach clenched in anticipation, as Zoro leant down to kiss him again. The kiss was slower this time, maybe Zoro could sense some of his nerves and wanted to sooth them, even as Sanji heard the click of the bottle and felt a lubricated finger circle his entrance.

Zoro shifted to kiss down his neck, biting at his collarbone and sucking to leave a mark. Sanji groaned underneath him, focused on the sharp sensation near his neck as Zoro slipped a finger into him. Sanji whined softly, there was a stetch but it wasn’t unpleasant, the sensation new but familiar at the same time. Zoro glanced up to make eye contact with him as he moved down to his chest, his tongue laving over one of his nipples before his teeth clamped down gently on the bud.

Sanji gasped, his hips thrusting down onto Zoro’s fingers as his chest arched up to his mouth.

“More, please…” Sanji begged quietly, stroking a hand through Zoro’s hair.

Sanji was so hard that he was struggling to concentrate, precum leaking onto his stomach as Zoro continued to stretch him, a second finger sliding into him as he started to curl his fingers as he thrust them gently inside him. There was a flash of a hot sensation that shot down Sanji’s spine as Zoro’s fingers brushed against his prostate and he clenched his hand around his bicep.

“ _Fuck_! T-there!” He gasped, digging his fingers into Zoro’s arm hard enough to bruise.

Zoro smirked, brushing teasingly past the same spot, “there?”

“Yes, there, _fucking shitty_ -” Sanji cut himself off with a loud moan when Zoro slid a third finger into him to the knuckle with no warning.

“Now don’t get ahead of yourself Curly, you’re not in charge now,” Zoro reprimanded, pressing his fingers punishingly against the sensitive bundle of nerves that was making Sanji pant and whine underneath him.

“ _Fuck~_ M-mariimoo…” He groaned, his hips twisting to try to get away from the intense pleasure-pain that Zoro’s fingers were inflicting.

“Ask me nicely,” Zoro purred, stretching his fingers apart slightly to make the blond whine louder.

The stretch was intense, but Sanji was still hard and leaking. He tossed his head on the pillows, his hair falling away from his face as his hips jerked in Zoro’s hands, unsure if he wanted to get away or chase the sensation.

“Please Zoro,” he panted.

“Please what?” Zoro smirked, his free hand reaching up to pinch and roll one of Sanji’s nipples.

“I want to cum…” Sanji admitted softly, still breathing hard, “please.”

“You’re so pretty when you beg,” Zoro admitted with a growl.

His slid a fourth finger inside Sanji’s tight ass, the stretch shifting from intense to slightly painful but Zoro’s fingers found Sanji’s prostate again, circling it gently, and his other hand wrapped tightly around Sanji’s weeping erection. Sanji moaned and panted, rolling his hips into Zoro’s fist as his fingers continued to stimulate his prostate.

Sanji’s orgasm crested on him with such intensity that his vision blurred and he felt momentarily removed from his body, warmth tingling through his limbs even as his hips spasmed. Zoro sat back to watch him, having removed two fingers to keep from overstimulating him.

Sanji opened grey-blue eyes with a satisfied smile and Zoro smiled at him.

“How are you doing?” He asked softly.

“Hoping that you’re planning to fuck me now,” Sanji replied, rolling his hips down onto Zoro’s hand.

“You’re still up for it?” Zoro asked, curling his fingers over Sanji’s prostate again, as if that didn’t get him half hard again already.

“I am if you are,” Sanji smirked, arching his chest attractively as he let his legs drop wider around Zoro’s hips.

Zoro didn’t need to be told twice, grabbing another condom and rolling it onto his cock before grabbing more lubricant to pour between Sanji’s cheeks and over his erection. Sanji shivered in anticipation, his long legs wrapping around Zoro’s waist as he tugged him down on top of him to bite his neck, leaving another bruise to match the first.

Zoro groaned, lifting Sanji’s hips slightly to shove a spare pillow underneath them. His hands grabbed Sanji’s ass again, spreading his cheeks as he slowly sunk into him. Sanji moaned, Zoro felt heavy inside him, stretching and filling him. He wanted to wrap his legs around his waist properly, but even with the length of his legs, Zoro’s chest was so broad that he could barely cross his ankles.

Which was so attractive.

When Zoro bottomed out against Sanji’s muscled ass, and they both groaned.

“You okay?” Zoro growled quietly, his hands deepening the finger-print shaped bruises on Sanji’s hips.

“Yeah, I’m good, please…” Sanji moaned, rolling his hips slightly to encourage him to _move._

Zoro didn’t need to be asked twice, for once, his hips snapping back against Sanji’s with enough force that the bed creaked. Sanji panted, his thighs squeezing Zoro’s sides as he clung to him, matching his pace and brutality. Zoro groaned into Sanji’s neck, pressing a kiss against the corner of his mouth but unable to kiss him properly.

The sensations were too much, too hot, too hard, too tight, for it to last. Sanji’s eyes were almost black, his pupils so lust-blown that they had almost overtaken the grey-blue as they met Zoro’s eyes from underneath golden lashes.

“Oh, _fuck_ , Zoro~!” He moaned loudly, his hands having given up on clinging to Zoro and now pulling desperately at his own hair.

Zoro grunted, his thrusts making the bed groan every time his hips connected with Sanji’s ass, “you close?”

Sanji whined and nodded desperately.

Zoro removed one hand from Sanji’s hip and wrapped around his dick, stroking him in time with his ferocious thrusts. Sanji bit his lip as the pitch of his moans heightened, clawing desperately at the pillows or his hair.

“Zoro… P-please. I’m so close. _Fuck_ … you feel so good,” he was babbling now, the sensations too much for him to keep track of, just focused on chasing his orgasm, “please Zoro, please.”

“I’ve got you,” Zoro panted, “come for me. You can come for me.”

His voice was rough, but his hand was steady as he continued to stroke Sanji, even as the other man seized underneath him and clenched around his cock.

Sanji’s orgasm splattered over his hand and his stomach, tremors shaking through him violently. His ass clenched around him as another spasm wracked Sanji’s body, and then Zoro was cumming as well, his hand still clawing at Sanji’s hip as he rode his orgasm, thrusting hard into the blond below him until the last wave had passed.

Zoro leant his forehead against Sanji’s collarbone, where he had left more than one dark bruise, while he caught his breath. Sanji was breathing hard as well, his hair still damp from his shower but now also, possibly, from sweat.

It took long minutes before Sanji groaned softly and pushed at Zoro’s shoulder gently.

“You’re heavy,” he complained.

Zoro was still partially propped up on his knees so he wasn’t completely crushing him, but the bulk of his chest was heavier than Sanji was necessarily comfortable with right now, especially when he would like to be getting full lungs of air. He’d also really like a cigarette, but that was rude at someone else’s house, and he didn’t want to break the moment by asking.

Zoro eventually groaned and rolled off him, removing the condom and tying it off to toss it into the bin. His eyes were closed as his head hit the pillow but he was smiling in satisfaction. He groped blindly for Sanji, wrapping his muscled arms around his waist to drag him against his chest.

“I should clean off,” Sanji murmured quietly, even as he left himself be manhandled into Zoro’s chest.

“Later,” Zoro mumbled, nuzzling into the back of Sanji’s neck.

“I’m going to be gross in the morning,” Sanji voiced.

He wasn’t really complaining though, he was tired as well and Zoro’s warmth against his back was comforting.

“Sleep Sanj’,” Zoro muttered, his voice already ladened with drowsiness.

“Happy birthday Zoro,” Sanji whispered as he closed his eyes.

Clean up could be tomorrow’s issue. After a twelve-hour shift in the kitchens, an incredibly intense fight and two orgasms, he didn’t have the energy left to argue.

* * *

When Zoro woke the next morning, the sun was up and Sanji was gone. He opened an eye to check the bedside table, knowing that it was stupid, but hoping he might have left a note. His number at least. There wasn’t a note, and the duffle bag that Sanji had brought with him was gone from the floor in front of the ensuite door.

He’d admit that he was disappointed. He was also not really one for pining, so he wasn’t going to worry that Sanji hadn’t said goodbye. Usopp had a way to contact him, and it wouldn’t be hard to bully out of him. If he contacted the blond and he said he wasn’t interested in a repeat, either of the sparring or the sex (Zoro really wanted a repeat of both – he didn’t get the chance to actually _test_ the other man’s flexibility last night), then that was fine, but at least he would have asked.

He needn’t have worried though, as shortly after he sat up to yawn and stretch, the door to his room was pushed open and Sanji poked his head in.

“Morning,” he greeted softly, carrying a tray of hot food that looked suspiciously like breakfast.

Zoro grunted, sitting back against the headboard of the bed. Sanji was dressed in clean clothes, a pair of jeans that were a little loose on his hips and a T-shirt that Zoro was fairly certain belonged to Luffy.

“I hope I didn’t overstay my welcome,” Sanji continued, frowning a little uncertainly, “I was just heading to my car this morning and Luffy asked if I could cook.”

“Don’t ever feed Luffy, it’s like feeding a stray cat, you’ll never get rid of him now,” Zoro grumbled as Sanji set the breakfast tray down over his lap.

Despite what he had said, the food in front of him was amazing. There were little bowls of rice, miso soup, pickles and two types of fish, and in the middle of the plate a gorgeous omurice with おはようございます written in tomato sauce over the top.

“Luffy also mentioned that you’re half Japanese, and spent most of your childhood there,” Sanji shrugged when Zoro looked a little confused at the non-traditional offering, “I still made Luffy bacon and eggs.”

“And you can just whip up a traditional Japanese breakfast because Luffy mentioned I might like it?” Zoro asked dubiously.

“Well, I am a professional chef, I can whip up just about anything if I have the ingredients and a vague idea of the recipe. I personally like Japanese omelettes though, so that wasn’t so hard,” he replied nonchalantly, sitting down in front of Zoro, “and it’s still your birthday weekend, so I made an effort.”

He picked up a pair of chopsticks, evidently having made enough food for he and Zoro to share. Zoro blinked at him for a moment and then smiled, picking up his own pair of chopsticks.

“You need to give me your number before you leave,” he informed him, slicing through the omelette to let it flop perfectly over the rice.

“Only if you give me yours,” Sanji smiled.

* * *

Usopp was the King of Gifts.

Admittedly, he hadn’t intended to gift Zoro his introduction to Sanji, but as their relationship grew, Usopp made sure that everyone who needed to know knew that he was the reason they had met.

And that he was still the reigning King of Gifts.

**Author's Note:**

> おはようございます - translates to good morning.


End file.
